


"It's not a happy story."

by CloudNucleus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots Academy (Cartoon)
Genre: And by that I mean she's Cywhirlgate's daughter, Dialogue Heavy, Empurata, Gen, POV Second Person, RBA Whirl is IDW Whirl's daughter, Transformers as Humans, cywhirlgate mentioned but not that important to the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudNucleus/pseuds/CloudNucleus
Summary: One of your dads looks different from everyone else. It seems to be a sore subject, but... you want to know why.
Relationships: IDW Whirl & RBA Whirl
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	"It's not a happy story."

“Daddy?” you said, years ago when you were a small child.

“Yeah, Whirly?” your dad responded, picking you up carefully with his claws and setting you on his lap.

“Why Daddy’s face different? Why one eye?” you asked, reaching out a little hand to try and touch his yellow optic.

To your surprise, he flinched back, and you let out a gasp. What was wrong? You didn’t hurt him, did you?

“I’ll… I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he said eventually.

“Dad?” you ask, now, at the age of 13. “Um… can I ask you something?”

He looks a bit uncomfortable, but replies, “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“What, um… what happened to your face and hands? If you don’t mind answering. Dad and Dad said you should explain it rather than them.”

Your dad lets out one of his strange sighs and looks down at his metal claws. “I… Well, it’s not a happy story. It’s really horrible actually. I don’t think you would want to hear it.”

You spend a moment considering how to reply. Your dad looks at you with worry in his optic, which most people wouldn’t be able to decipher, but you’re his child.

“I want to know,” you eventually say. “If it turns out to be too horrible for me to hear, then it’s my fault for asking. So don’t worry about me. I won’t think any less of you for it, I promise.” You spread out your arms to offer a hug, knowing that your dad doesn’t like to be touched without explicit permission, and he accepts it, burying his metal face in your hair.

“Okay then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You simply nod.

“Okay.” He lets out a deep breath, and steps back, releasing you from the hug. “It happened before the war. Y’know how I used to make watches? Well, the… the _Functionist Council_ didn’t like that very much. They sent people to destroy my business. So I uh… Well, I started fighting.” He looks away. “Eventually I… started working for the Senate. But they uh… Well, they wanted me to do things I really didn’t want to do. So I refused.”

He looks back at you with an expression more distressed than you’ve ever seen him - and one would be surprised just how strongly he can express such an emotion with his single optic. “The punishment for that was… this.” He waves a claw, gesturing at his lack-of-a-face. “They take away your hands and your face, and it marks you as someone who did something _wrong._ ” He says this word so sarcastically you can practically smell it dripping from his voice. “The process is called empurata.” He shakes his head. “Primus, I hate saying that horrible word.”

You realize your face is a bit wet, your vision blurry; you’ve started crying. “Did- did it hurt?” you ask.

“I’ve fought in a war. I was a fu- a Wrecker. No battle injury hurt nearly as much as this.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands. “You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“Nobody deserves this. It’s good they don’t do it anymore, huh?” he chuckles bitterly.

“Is there a way to get your face and hands back?” you ask hopefully. The answer is probably no, but it can’t hurt to ask, right?

Your dad turns his head away again, fiddling with the hem of his crop top. “No,” he says, and you have a feeling he’s not telling you everything, but you decide not to push it.

“Thanks for telling me, Dad,” you say. “It must be really hard to talk about.”

“...Yeah. But you deserve to know, if you want to. So um. Yeah.”

You offer another hug, and he holds you tightly. You pat his back. “I still love you, by the way. Just so you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna draw something for this fic but for some reason I couldn't get it to look right. Here's what the Whirls look like though.  
> https://www.deviantart.com/kirbytardos/art/Whirl-s-844448478  
> https://www.deviantart.com/kirbytardos/art/CYWHIRLGATE-793039856


End file.
